


Another one past

by lavishsqualor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-02
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavishsqualor/pseuds/lavishsqualor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam gripes about his birthday, and Dean makes everything all better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another one past

**Author's Note:**

> It's Sammy's birthday today! And I thought that the least I could do to show my love was write some bday porn!! So, here it is, and I hope you all enjoy! Also, this is my first attempt at writing porn _ever_ , and it's also unbeta'd. So every mistake and any weirdness is completely my fault! ;) And I apologize if you think Sam's age is off - this shit was stressing me out.. I mean, born May 2, 1983, but what happened to the whole 'One year later' thing from the beginning of this season? IDEK, so I'm going with Sam's mention of it being 2011 in Frontierland...  
> 

It was raining. Pouring, actually. Not too big of a surprise though, it _was_ early May in the Midwest after all. And Sam didn’t really care that it was raining today, he really didn't. In fact, he was kind of enjoying it. He sipped at his morning coffee while watching the swollen drops rain steadily down from his perch on a rickety, wooden swing on the porch of the abandoned country house they were currently calling home.

Sam was busy contemplating the day, when he heard the screen door snap shut. Dean shuffled towards the swing, rubbing at his sleepy eyes and letting out a large yawn.

"Morning, birthday boy," Dean drawled through the smirk he'd cracked as he sat beside his younger brother.

"Jesus, Dean. Don’t remind me."

"Aw, now what kinda attitude is that, Sammy?" The smile had fallen from his face. "I know you've always had a thing against your birthday–"

"I don't have a _thing_ against my birthday," Sam cut him off. "It’s just, I mean, what's the fucking point? I just really don't get what the whole big birthday deal is all about. Especially mine, Dean."

"Seriously, isn't it all about celebrating another upcoming year of life with family and friends? Well, I've barely got either. And I sure as hell don't have any idea whether I'll make it to see another whole month, let alone another year." Sam finally cut off his rant when he'd looked over and noticed Dean's jaw gone slack.

"I, uh. I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't really mean. I don't–"

"I know you didn't. And you're right, mostly. But I say fuck that." Dean’s grin reappeared as he continued, "I say screw what's expected, all that crap, and let's just have a good day. We took care of that nasty coven last night anyways, so it's not like we're on a job. Why don't we just see where the day takes us?"

Sam groaned, but more for the reaction it'd get out of Dean than anything else.

"Naw, Sammy. I mean it. You and me. Something fun. You know, we hit the road soon, we could even make it down to a Jayhawks game?"

Well, that was that. There was no way Sam could resist Dean when that look came across his face, pure childlike excitement.

"'Mkay," Sam responded. And the smile that elicited from Dean was already worth it. "But just one thing first."

Dean’s grin turned cocky as he said, "What? My baby brother was expecting a birthday lay?"

"Not a baby, Dean," Sam said, his head tipped to the right and lowered, eyebrows slightly drawn. "But yeah, what else were you thinking I’d request?"

"Nothing. I was betting on this." And with that, Dean scooted a little closer on the swing, took Sam’s coffee mug out of his hands, and lowered it to the porch. Before he'd even lifted his head, Sam had his hands on Dean's chest, fisting his sleep-wrinkled t-shirt to pull him in.

Their mouths met with force. Neither wasted any time, and quickly their tongues were trading spaces back and forth. Sam swore he forgot how incredible Dean tasted, or perhaps it was just that no memory could compare to the real thing. Their kisses were getting more and more heated, and their bodies pressed tighter together. Dean squeezed an arm up and reached for Sam's face, pulled back slightly and breathed, "Should we take this inside?"

"Mhmm," Sam replied, standing instantly and dragging Dean up with him.

Sam forced his mouth on Dean's again, already extremely excited for the impending birthday sex, and began pushing Dean backwards toward the screen door. Their feet promptly became twisted, and Dean grunted, "Hey. Easy, tiger," before grabbing Sam's hands in his own to release them from his shirt. "Can’t a brother walk himself around here?"

"Well this brother better hurry his ass up."

So Dean did. But Sam was still rushing up close behind. They made their way into their bedroom, that is, the one room in the house that had an actual mattress, albeit one that was on the ground and had sleeping bags as linens. Sam grabbed Dean by the elastic waist band of his flannel pants and whipped him around. He slipped his hands under Dean's shirt, palming his lower back briefly, before gripping the hem and hauling it up and over Dean's head. He smoothed his hands up Dean's abdominals and across his hard chest, then gently shoved. Dean went sprawling out on the mattress with a yelp, but it quickly turned into a moan as Sam followed him down, straddling Dean's hips and grinding just a bit.

Before anything else, though, Sam wanted to feel Dean's skin against his own. So he pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion and levered down, pressing their bodies together. Their mouths immediately found one another's, but this time, some of the urgency had dissipated.

Firm presses of lips, a smoothing of Dean's tongue over Sam's lower lip, followed by a gentle nip. It continuously surprised Sam how amazing Dean's mouth felt on his: those full, gorgeous lips, his soft but knowledgeable tongue, and that breathtaking taste that was just, Dean. Sam sucked Dean's bottom lip between his own, held on to it for a while, rolling its fullness around. But he needed to taste more, entered Dean's mouth and ran his tongue around. Licked across Dean's lower teeth, his hard palate. Did circles around Dean's tongue with his own before lightly sucking at it, bringing it into his own mouth.

And all the while Sam was pressing down firmly on Dean. He brought his hands up Dean's sides and down, across his chest, light flicks and tugs at nipples. They weren't completely grinding up against one another, there was more than enough time for that, but there wasn't a complete lack of pressure either.

"More, Sam," Dean almost panted, already slightly breathless.

"More what, Dean?" Sam taunted.

"Just, just, more."

But Sam was already complying. He raised himself off of Dean and shimmied down the mattress, hooked his fingers into the waist of Dean's flannels and boxerbriefs at once, and tugged them down and off.

"Mmm, there," Dean almost outright moaned. "Now, you." So Sam stood and lowered his own pajama bottoms and underwear.

"Well, fuck if that ain't the best looking birthday suit I've ever laid eyes on."

Sam was already crawling back on to the bed and over Dean. "Nice one, Casanova," he quipped.

"I do what I can," Dean retorted. "Seriously, though. _Fuck_ , Sa–"

Sam cut Dean's praises short by swallowing his words. He kissed Dean deep, and hard, before he moved to suck lighter kisses to Dean's stubble-covered chin, then along his jaw toward his ear. He mouthed briefly at Dean's left earlobe, flicked at it with his tongue, then moved lower, down Dean's neck.

He kissed his way down Dean's solid body, slowing to pay special attention to the particularly sensitive areas – Dean's collarbone, each of his nipples, the dip between his pectorials, just below his navel. He slid his hands down as well, underneath Dean, cupping his ass briefly, then sliding further along the backs of his thighs. He gently pushed Dean's legs apart and slightly up, and nosed at Dean's tight balls, teased him with quick little flicks of tongue. He again took up his application of light, suckling kisses, making his way down Dean's perineum.

Before long, however, he reached his goal. Felt Dean's tight ring of muscle flutter under his tongue.

"Sam. Sammy," Dean started. "Today's about you. Come on, you don't have to do that."

"Shut the fuck up, Dean. You know how much I love this. Love making you squirm."

"Bitch," Dean responded, while Sam continued to lap at his hole. He pulled away just briefly to reply: "Jerk," which garnered snickers from the both of them.

Sam kept on, firmed his tongue, and slowly pressed in. The way Dean's muscles constricted got him every time. God, how he loved that asshole.

He pressed on further, tried his damndest to work his tongue in circles. He gradually receded, before pushing back in again fully.

"Fuck, Sam. Your _mouth_. Jesus Christ."

"Hmmm," Sam murmured, the vibrations that induced pulling a groan from deep in Dean's gut.

Sam could honestly do this all day, but he also wanted to move things along, so he fucked into Dean's ass with his tongue just a couple more times before pushing his right index finger in along with it. Dean was so tight, and warm, and felt so good clenched around Sam's finger. He removed his tongue and instead added a second finger after slicking it with spit.

Soft purrs were escaping Dean's lips, and when Sam curled his fingers upward on the downward drag, teasing that sweet spot, an almost pornographic moan surged out of Dean. "Oh god, Sammy, yes. More, please. _Please_."

Shit, there wasn't much that Sam enjoyed more than hearing Dean beg for it, well, besides actually fucking his older brother. So instead of giving Dean his dick, he added a third finger.

"Fuck yourself open, Dean," Sam ordered. "Wanna see you make yourself ready for me."

Sometimes Dean didn't like to give in to Sam when he was being bossy, but not today, he wanted it so bad. He immediately began to bear down on Sam's hand. Quick, little thrusts, while Sam angled his fingers just so, had Dean full out panting in no time.

"I'm ready. Please, Sam. Want you, now. Need you," Dean pleaded.

Sam would've loved to draw it out further, but his cock was requesting otherwise. He spit into his hand a couple of times and reached down, slicked himself up. Pulled his fingers out, which made such a delicious noise, and lined up.

He entered Dean's ass slowly, let just the head pass into him and held.

"Sam..." Dean whined, before Sam pushed forward deliberately, half an inch at a time. When Sam bottomed out, Dean's mouth was wide open, lower lip quivering, his eyes blown, his breathing fast. Sam waited until Dean nodded, then unhurriedly pulled back, before thrusting forward in one fluid motion.

"Fuck, Dean," Sam couldn't help but exclaim. "Every time. Every fucking time. Forget how good you feel. So amazing. _Fuck_."

He pulled out again and thrust in, full strength of his hips. Quickened his pace, moving in and out with urgency. Sam kept on, trying to draw it out as long as possible.

"God, Sammy. Right there. Just, yes." And fuck, how Sam loved hearing Dean's voice so full of contentment, full of want, and need.

After a few more minutes of deep fucking, Sam reached up, grabbed Dean's heavy dick, dripping with precome, and wrapped his fingers around it.

"No, Sam. Just– just this." Shit, sometimes Dean was almost too much for Sam. Just his cock, that was all Dean wanted, and Sam was more than willing to give him everything that he ever wanted.

A few more concerted thrusts and Dean was spasming beneath him, around him, thick, hot come spurting out of his dick and hitting his stomach, reaching almost to his neck.

The way his ass clutched around Sam was more than Sam could withstand, and one more plunge was all it took. Sam came inside of Dean, cock pulsing a large load into his brother's ass. Dean could feel Sam throbbing within him, and it drew his orgasm out, more come dribbling from his head.

That was always the best. Both of their favorites. When they came together, each of their orgasms building up one another's, like a positive feedback loop of pure, hot pleasure.

With a throaty moan, Sam collapsed on Dean, rolled off on to his side. Reached over the mattress to grab a towel from his duffel and cleaned Dean up, wiping at his flushed skin with care. When he was done, Sam lay on his back, reached his arm around Dean and pulled him tight against him. Dean settled into his younger brother's arms, splayed his hand across Sam's still hot, glistening-with-sex chest.

"So?" Dean prodded. "How's it feel to be twenty-eight, Sammy?"

"Feels good, Dean. Feels pretty damn good."  



End file.
